


Six, II | The Fighters - Prologue

by Milletrye



Series: Six - Additional Work [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fantrolls, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 20:01:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1197657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milletrye/pseuds/Milletrye





	Six, II | The Fighters - Prologue

The stone-cold forest was as silent as usual. The old troll was sitting in the tallest, and oldest, tree of all. How it had become this hollow would remain a mystery forever, but it made a wonderful hideout. Nobody would find them here – him, and the little troll he had been raising for three sweeps now.

The silence allowed the old troll to tune his guitar, memories of past nights flooding his mind. He had been a musician once, but that all had changed when he found the wiggler, only hours after it had left the caverns... three sweeps ago, and it was growing up so fast.

The old troll was alone now, his charge out in the forest to explore. He was a skilled one, healthy, smart and strong for his low caste, and the old troll trusted him completely.

Then, he heard a sound. His charge could walk completely silently, he knew. This was not the sound of footsteps, however. Rather that of something being... draggled?

“Cherti, is that you?” The old troll looked up as he called the other one by the name he had given him all those sweeps ago.

“Yes”, came the reply from the younger troll, as eerily emotionless as usual. As he stepped into view, the old one saw that he really was draggling something, no... _someone_.

“Cherti?”, he asked again, standing up to get a better view. The younger one was holding the feet of another troll, maybe six sweeps old. It was a highblood, higher on the spectrum than the old troll himself, and he was not just unconscious, but... dead.

The older troll froze.

“Did you-“

“Yes”, the young troll nodded, pointing at the stab wound just where the dead troll’s heart was situated.

“...why?”, the old troll managed to say, almost completely speechless.

“He was in our territory.”

Now, what should he do? He would not allow to keep the body in their hideout, but he could not carry it somewhere either because the dead troll’s friends might still be around... and there was nothing to tell them.

_“I apologize, but I did not kill your friend, it was a three sweeps old rustblood.”_

Certainly.

\---

“...Cherti?”

The other troll’s sharp blade was touching the old one’s throat, forcing him to remain on his back. One wrong move and he’d be dead, he knew.

“Father”, the younger troll replied. His voice was lacking any kind of emotion, his stare cold and empty.

Five sweeps had passed since the young one’s first kill, and ever since then, he had continued to do so in spite of every attempt the old troll had made to stop him.

It was a night like any other, and his charge had attacked him.

“Please... don’t kill me.” His own voice was not much more than a whisper.

“All I want is my freedom. I’m no longer a wiggler, nor your son.” 

The younger one looked the other troll deep into the eyes.

“From now on, consider me independent.”

The old troll desperately tried to hide his tears. He couldn’t believe what he had just heard... he didn’t want to.

“Now leave and never come back”, he heard his charge say.

“...why?”

“You know why”, the younger one snarled now, grabbing the other’s collar and forcing him up again, not turning his eyes away. “I’m soulless.”

“No”, the old one wanted to say. “No, you aren’t.”

But all he could do was run like he had been told to.

Run and never return.

Never but once.


End file.
